


there's no place like home

by latinacap



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Denial, Hallucinations, M/M, One Shot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sad with a Happy Ending, old, sad Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14429493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latinacap/pseuds/latinacap
Summary: “Hey,” replied a voice he thought he’d never hear, a smile probably stretching up to meet their eyes. There was a slight Brooklyn accent to it, followed by a relieved sigh. “It’s been a while .. hasn’t it?”





	there's no place like home

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was 15 and just found it soooo I thought I'd share it while I work on updating chapters and other WIPs of mine :) 
> 
> As always, follow me on tumblr @ napolibarnes if you like these fics for updates!! 
> 
> Enjoy!!

_Be grateful for the home you have, knowing that at this moment, all you have is all you need._

_\- Sarah Ban Breathnach_

* * *

 

Steve never really knew how to use the modern day phone. He uses the cell phone for calls from the team, and for the occasional picture of something he can later use as practice for drawing; then he uses the landline as a back up plan. It’s always just been a back up plan.

Though, when the soft humming of the land line from down the hall finally reached him in his bedroom, he didn’t really seem to mind. He lays in bed for a few moments, composing his bearing at the wee hours of the night just as the phone keeps ringing the default rhythm over and over. Steve sighed lightly, tracing the lines on the ceiling with his crystal blue eyes. He was already sporting a headache, thanking God that he didn’t put the ringtone any higher or else he’d really be in trouble.

The room was dark when he sat up, scrubbing his face with both hands to wipe the sleepiness and fatigue that threatened to drown him once more under the blanket of complete darkness and to another place far from here - though he didn’t submit, and staggered to his feet, walking across the room to the living room. The cold bit at his bare thighs and the hardwood floor sent shivers up and down his torso when he stepped onto it. He made a mental note to turn on the heat before returning bed, checking the windows as he passed by them to make sure they were all closed and locked. Steve spotted the ebony phone in the darkness, the yellow light on the machine blinking to get his attention. Grabbing the phone in one hand, the Captain picking it up to see an unknown number flash and then answering with a questioning tone.

“Hello?” he mused, leaning against the wall near the inn table against the wall. The smiling face of Peggy looking back at him, along side the picture of his mother in uniform and Rebecca Barnes’ braiding her hair on her wedding day - his three best girls.

“Hey,” replied a voice he thought he’d never hear, a smile probably stretching up to meet their eyes. There was a slight Brooklyn accent to it, followed by a relieved sigh. “It’s been a while .. hasn’t it?”

Steve smiled sleepily, running his hand through his sun-bleached hair. “Yeah, yeah it has,” he paced back and forth the table slowly, anxious to hear the man on the other line talk again. “How .. how are you? You doing alright?”

“I can’t complain,” he chuckled, the sound of utter silence on the other side just amplified the husky voice. “I miss you though,”

“I miss you too, Buck,” Steve continued forward towards the window, looking across the street to the illuminated DC skyline that added the perfect mood of winter as the snowflakes and snow floated down with weightlessness that made Steve feel heavier - not physically, but weighed down by the burden of all his long yet short life mixed all together.

Bucky chuckled on the other side. Short and somewhat bitter - like laughing at a false truth. “What do you mean?” his voice sounded lighter, jokingly. “You know exactly where I am,”

“… How are you liking it?”

“Liking what, Stevie?”

“Brooklyn, silly,” Steve sat down on the armchair near the frosted over window, feeling almost like he was outside of his apartment. Everything just felt numb. “I know that’s you’re there. You have a thick skull, you wouldn’t be anywhere else but there,”

A pause. “It’s new,” came Bucky’s reply. He sounded defeated, voice small and Steve can practically see his eyebrows knitting together like finding the right words to describe it. “New buildings, new restaurants, new shops …. “ he sighed, a small laugh escaping at his genius comeback he was about to lay down. “I don’t think we’re in New York anymore,”

“Aw, Buck,” Steve laughed - actually laughed. Not a scoff, not a forced one; just a natural one at the memory of two young men sitting in a theatre watching the newest released picture of a girl who finds herself casted away from her ordinary life and into one full of color and everything her life wasn’t. It felt like Steve’s life story - taken from his home that was plain and nothing special and thrown into another that had so much more; but now, now he just wanted to go home. Steven Grant Rogers is Dorothy Gale. “I can’t believe that you still remember that movie,”

“How can I not remember? We quoted that movie for weeks,” Bucky paused again for a moment longer than before, sighing into the phone that made tremors run up and down his body. He didn’t know if it was the sheer want of that breath on him or the anticipating talk. “… Aren’t you going to go check up on me?”

“I am checking up on you,”

“ _Steve_ ,”

He sounded annoyed, so Steve complied. He slowly rose up from the armchair, groaning and grunting at his tired muscles as he walked to the repainted door with a slight hesitation. He licked his lips slowly, turning the knob and opening the door as silently as he could without disturbing the sleeping form on the other side. James laid resting on his plush pillows, chestnut strands fanned over his face as some of them drifted from his cheekbones to rest lightly on the sinfully red lips that parted to allow air into his lungs. The blanket was pulled up to his hunched shoulder while he laid in an almost fetal position, eyelids fluttering with a dream playing behind his eyes. Dream - not nightmare. “So? How am I?”

Steve swallowed thickly, closing the door again before replying with a soft and teary, “He’s .. you’re okay, you’re safe.” he let out a forced laugh, “This has to be the most I’ve seen you sleep since you’ve been back,”

“Taking care of your best fella?”

“Of course, Bucky, you know that,”

“.. Is that why you only call me James?” When Steve didn’t reply, Bucky cleared his throat professionally. “Steve, you said you missed me right? I’m right past that door, I’ve been with you for three months al-”

“No, you haven’t!” Steve hissed, looking back at the door to make sure that his voice wasn’t too loud to wake James up from his slumber. His jaw was clenched tight, spitting his words behind his teeth. “You aren’t here, the person behind that door is not you, he told me himself! And even if he was you, you would’ve tried to at least remember who I am! You forget me almost as quickly and frequently as Peggy does! Everyone I love - forgetting me! You are not that man, you would never forget me!”

Bucky stayed quiet. No white sound or still air - just utter silence that broke through the stubble rustle of sheets and the cars driving by in the dead of night. “What do you want me to say?” Bucky made a small sound like a sad chuckle.

“Just- just say something, Buck, anything,” Steve’s body laxed in defeat as he fought against the tears threatening to spill past his cheeks. “Just tell me how I’m suppose to reach you,”

“I can’t tell you that,”

“Why not? Why can’t you …. Bucky, I just want to dig you back out of all that programming and …. torture,”

“You know I can’t tell you,” a tear slipped down Steve’s cheek as he waited for the inevitable. “I’m a figment of your imagination … I’m a memory, Steve. I know only what you know,”

“No, no, you’re Bucky Barnes. You’re my best friend, you can’t be-”

“If I was actually talking to you on the phone, how come James didn’t stir when it rang?”

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat, because Bucky was right. James woke up over the even most subtle of sounds and would definitely wake up from his resting at the sound of their land line blaring out into the open apartment. “… see? I’m your imagination, because you are trying to hide what’s bigger than both of us,” Bucky sighed, “I’m still here, Steve, I’m just … I’m just scared to disappoint you, and you know that too,”

“No I don’t,”

“Yes, yes you do because if I know it, then you do too.”

“What exactly do you know?” he muttered lightly, watching the numbers of the clock tick by as he counted the hours of sleep James was getting. So far, he was pushing on five hours.

“I know that I can’t sleep unless you’re next to me, because you know that when I wake up, the only thing to get me back to sleep is you holding me. I know that I hate drinking coffee, which is why you make tea for me every morning with lemon squeezed in it - always the tea that makes me relax. I know that watching movies makes you anxious, because you’re afraid that I’ll bolt any day now. You’re afraid to loose me, even if I know that I won’t ever,”

Steve shook his head. It was true - almost everything he found out about the older man while in his custody right there. He knew that if this was really Bucky talking to him, he’d tell him more of how he feels and fill him in on things he doesn’t know. “I … I miss you,”

“I … Goodbye, Steve, I’ll try to find my way back to you. I promise you,” and the line went dead.

He looked down at the phone’s dark screen … no numbers of how long the call was, no flashing light to tell him that he successfully hung up on the ghost of his past. He wiped his cheeks with a gasp, remembering that the apartment is bone chillingly cold. The sun was about to come up soon anyway, so not bothering to even turn on the heat when the light would be enough, Steve opened the door to his shared room with the Soviet assassin and … stared.

He stared at the curve of his lean body, the individual hair strands that sticked to his mouth - a drabble of drool acting like glue. His metal arm was laid out over onto Steve’s side of the bed, his other hand clenching Bucky Bear close to his chest in a warped sense of protection on a stuffed animal named after himself. James’ knees were halfway pressed against his chest as he breathed in soft little breathes. Steve didn’t realized how long he was staring until James shifted with a grimace, pushing himself off the mattress to wipe the dribble off the corner of his mouth with his flesh hand. He sat against his calved, his hair messed up and his eyes barely focused as he hummed something so soft that Steve almost felt himself well up with excitement. “Steve …?” he hummed, yawning silently as he patted the spot next to him. “What’re you doing up? Get back to bed,” he sounded so … tired, yet calm as he coaxed the bigger man to come back to the warmth of their shared covers.

“Yeah … yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” Steve nodded, looking towards the floorboards to avoid James’ piercing gaze. There was more ruffling until soft patter of feet approached him slowly, wrapping mismatched arms around his thin waist and buried his face into Steve’s broad chest with a soft sigh.

“I remember,”

“What do you remember?”

“I remember watching the Wizard of Oz,” he started, pulling back long enough to plant a lazy kiss on Steve’s. “We sat in the way back … we had plans on making out but .. but the moment it started we both settled on .. holding hands, right? Yeah, we held hands and watched the movie,” he brought one hand up to rub circles at the nape of Steve’s neck, feeling the goosebumps trail after. “Can we watch it again? I remember liking it … a lot,”

“Sure, Toto, I can set it up while we make breakfast … “ he wrapped his arms around James - Bucky -  and held him in his arm long enough to let the dull ache in his chest turn into a fuzzy warmth.

“‘M not Toto …” Bucky whined lightly, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m the Tinman,”

“Why him?”

“Because all he wanted was a heart,” his metal index finger tapped Steve’s chest. “And I’m half made of metal, so there’s that,”

Steve laughed softly, kissing the top of Bucky’s head while rubbing his back. Maybe his imagination is right, maybe Bucky is coming back to him as fast as it could. He just needed some time. And he didn’t need a Bucky from nineteen forty-five … wherever Bucky is, so is home.

  
All we all know there’s no place like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, I wrote this when I was 15 so I apologize for any errors!!


End file.
